


How To Be A Hero In Five Easy Steps!

by orphan_account



Category: Pokemon, pokemon xy
Genre: AU, Angst, Bombings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gun violence (not graphic), Kalos v Kanto War, Major character death - Freeform, Multi, Not Proofread, Smoking, Swearing, The team leaders are presidents, Violence, Wartime AU, alcoholic character, more tags tba, slow burn idk, unbetad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 05:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Augustine scowled at the sad, worn paperback book in his hand. “How To Become A Wartime Hero In Five Easy Steps”.If only it was that easy,he thought ruefully. The conscription propaganda and posters had made fighting for the country so noble, so glamorous, but in reality, it was hard, ungraceful work.





	How To Be A Hero In Five Easy Steps!

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Non-graphic gun violence, smoking, swearing, mentions of bombing

How To Become A Wartime Hero In Five Easy Steps! 

The crazy war raging on between Kanto and Kalos had been going on for 35 years. Heck, Augustine Sycamore had been born in a relatively peaceful period, but that ended when Lumiose was bombed, and his parents didn’t survive. 

One could say Augustine was more suited to academics than fighting a war he otherwise would have nothing to do with (hell, even the cause of the war had been lost to time) but it wasn’t his fault he’d been fighting this drafted war for - what was the age for conscription again? fourteen? Half his life, that’s right, fourteen years with nothing to do other than to toss a bomb and pray the enemy don’t toss one back, or hope that he is just not in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

When they flew to Hoenn (that’s right, they were fighting in a completely irrelevant place, he reminded himself,) he noticed a new addition to the platoon. Bright red tufts of hair barely concealed by his helmet hinted at the man’s identity. Only one man in all of Kalos had a hairdo reminiscent of a lion, and that happened to be Lysandre Fleur-de-Lis, son of the President, heir to a great company of phone makers (Holocasters, they were called today) cafe owner, and scientist extraordinaire. Augustine Sycamore grinned _up_ at the man (seriously, he had about three inches on him) and tauntingly said, ‘The name’s Augustine Sycamore. What’s yours?’ clearly implying that he knew _exactly_ who he was. ‘The name’s Leon,’ he grunted. Augustine almost sniggered at the pathetic excuse of a fake name but asked another question. ‘How long have you been in the army?’

‘This is my second year,’ “Leon” said.   
Almost at an afterthought, he added, ‘I’ve never fought in Hoenn before.

* * *

Augustine scowled at the sad, worn paperback book in his hand. “How To Become A Wartime Hero In Five Easy Steps”. _If only it was that easy,_ he thought ruefully. The conscription propaganda and posters had made fighting for the country so noble, so glamorous, but in reality, it was hard, ungraceful work. 

Sitting up, he went to go pester Lysandre at the mess hall. Wandering in, he found the redhead scowling at the gloopy mush they served in Hoenn mess halls. ‘Missing your gourmet grass-fed steak?’ he whispered into Lysandre’s ear. The taller man scowled, cold blue eyes snapping to Augustine’s face, stood up abruptly and flung his fist into Augustine’s face - or tried to. Augustine smoothly dodged with practiced ease - he’d helped many, many young recruits let off steam this way. 

When the helicopter descended upon the bloodied, dirtied grass near Mt. Pyre, Augustine whispered to Lysandre, ‘Don’t die.’   
The other man froze in shock when he heard the two words - why would the man that made him annoyed by far the most wish him well?  
‘Why would you tell me that?’ Lysandre asked, voicing his thoughts.   
‘Nobody gets pissed off in quite the same way and speed like you do,’ Augustine responded, a cheeky grin along his face.   
‘Is it safe to say that I was expecting an actual answer?’ Lysandre muttered.   
‘But seriously, though. You’re a nice guy,’ reassured Augustine. Lysandre just made a noncommittal grunt and looked away. 

Augustine leveled his rifle at the advancing Kantonians and fired, bullet by bullet by bullet. He could hear Lysandre’s gun clattering away somewhere off the distance - he was still alive, despite the shit Hoenn had to offer. Augustine remembered, with no small pang of sadness in his stomach, losing three of his friends on their first day of Hoenn fighting. Augustine exhaled. They’d stopped the Kantonians - for now.

* * *

Lysandre walked outside of the shabby canvas tent, finding Augustine amid a cloud of smoke, holding a lit cigarette to his lips.   
‘You know that shit will literally consume you from the inside out, Sycamore,’ Lysandre started, but was interrupted by a bored Augustine. ‘Don’t want to know, don’t particularly give a shit. Oh, and also, call me Augustine. No Sycamore shit, just Augustine, dumbass.’  
‘Language, Syc - I mean, Augustine!’ Lysandre exclaimed.   
Augustine smirked, sending another weak spot to poke at. ‘What, does the posh boy not no how to speak like a normal, everyday human?’ he jeered.   
Lysandre scowled, but stayed silent. After a few minutes, he finally spoke up. ‘Why do you do it? Why do you bother to go out of your way to piss us all off with that cheerful demeanour when the war is eating us all up from the inside out?’ he asked.   
Sycamore considered this for a while.   
‘Because, in some part of me that I definitely will not admit to having tomorrow, I care about you dumbasses. If I don’t annoy you constantly, you’ll just bottle up your feelings. It’s letting steam off, I guess,’ he said ruefully. 

A dark head popped through the canvas flaps. ‘Lovely dessert is ready,’ Diantha, Augustine’s cousin trilled, sarcastically. 

‘Looks like there’s a shitstorm waiting for us inside,’ muttered Augustine.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you thought of that by dropping a comment below! I tried to write this chapter longer than all my usual chapters ;;


End file.
